Soldier's Death
by elenlaurelin
Summary: This is the story of an unnamed soldier's family, friends, and, ultimately, the battle for Alamo Gulch, told from the Russians' point of view. Short, somewhat plotless, but a rather intriguing foray into the lives of nameless characters.
1. Goodbye to Archangel

A/N: Fun with insanely minor, unnamed characters!

He looked handsome. He always looked handsome, but that day, he looked brilliant. His bright blue uniform snapped proudly in the brutal wind that day, as he looked back at me one last time. Valentina and Klavdiya crowded close to us, and as they clung to their dashing father, I could see how beautiful they were, how perfectly their noses and cheeks curved out, just like his. They would be beautiful one day, and they certainly wouldn't have me to thank for it.  
  
But the ship was nearly ready to sail. He leaned down, his soft, supple hair bowing gracefully to the breezes, as if acknowleging temporary defeat, and picked up the two girls, kissing them both proudly on the cheeks. His daemon, Quagedse, sat beside him, her tongue panting eagerly in the winds coming from the White Sea.  
  
"Fedya?" My voice cracked slightly, and I hoped he wouldn't notice. My own daemon, Hyrpheble, looked up expectantly, her long ears twitching slightly as she rubbed her nose. "Fedya, will you come back from this? Your daughters are so young, they need you...I need you..."  
  
"Elizaveta!" he cried, grinning wildly as he swept me up in his arms, too. Despite his appearance as a grave, sober young man, at home he was so fun- loving, even ridiculous, such a wonderful husband, such a perfect father. His daemon nuzzled mine and gave him an enthusiastic lick. "Part of the fun of being a soldier is the threat of death. I know it's hard on you and the children for me to be away so often, but I love the danger. I love the thrill of not knowing what's coming for me. And besides," he said, drawing me closer so that I could smell the warm hint of vodka on his tongue, "if I die, you'll not only be a widow, you'll be a rich widow!"  
  
"I know, Fedya, I know, your life is insured by the Magisterium itself, and I'll get a pension if you end up dead." I couldn't help but smile a little, even through the tears that threatened to ruin my composure. A priest stood nearby, intoning prayers for the soldiers of the Imperial Guard. Of course, the normal infantry got none of these honors, but, as a soldier of the Magisterium, Fedya and his troop-members got high salaries, pensions, and even a regimental clergyman. And, as was appropriate for members of the Imperial Guard, nearly all of their daemons were wolves.  
  
After we dismissed Valentina and Klavdiya to their playmates, Quagedse looked my daemon in the eye, his tail twitching slightly. "If we die..." Here he trailed off, his composure broken for a second. "The pension you get if we die will not be enough to support you and the girls. Don't be afraid to marry again. We'd rather see you happy with someone else, than your lives ruined by our death. We love you forever."  
  
Fedya embraced my trembling frame, because I was openly sobbing now. Valentina, slightly more understanding than her little sister, stopped making Archangelic mud pies for a moment, and looked at me sadly. Her small daemon perched on her shoulder as a raven, tilting his head slightly in sympathy.  
  
"I'm sorry," was all I could manage to say. He nodded, understanding what I meant, and gently touched his fingertips to my ears, to pull back the long, dirty-brown hair that was now streaking across my face, mingling with my tears and getting thouroughly messy. I could hear Clavdiya and Valentina's cries of disgust when my Fedya kissed me, but I ignored them for a moment. I knew that Hyrpheble was doing the same.  
  
"Fedya," I murmured this time, my face buried in his shoulder, "when will we see you again?"  
  
Here he drew back and smiled. "If we get back this time, I'll get a real job, and we'll never leave Archangel again."  
  
"Promise?" I asked, smiling back at him.  
  
"I promise. And now, my beautiful love," he crooned, kissing me foppishly on the forehead, "I must go. Farewell!"  
  
He slung his pack over his broad shoulders, and with a final wave, walked away to the gangplank, Quagedse at his heels, where they immediately dissappeared into the strange fog that had appeared a few nights before. Even without the fog, though, I could barely see through the tears that were congregating in my eyes. Valentina came running to me, and I held her tightly as we heard the blast of a fog horn, and the ship's engines starting up.  
  
Visions flashed through my mind; visions of past, of future. I could see myself in my favorite gown at a ball, being approached by a handsome gentleman in regimentals; our first kiss, at that, or some succeeding ball, while we sat on the sides of the room, waiting for the band to play a song that we wanted to dance to; our wedding day, simple in the eyes of most, but so special to me. I could also see him lying on a battlefield, blood pouring out of a wound in his chest, his eyes glassy; myself in a black gown, holding Valentina and Clavdiya close to me at a funeral.  
  
It was then that I knew. He was sailing off to his death. Holding my best handkerchief high, I smiled for the first time that day.


	2. View from a Military Zeppelin

To say that I was irritated when I found out would have been an understatement. I was indignant at the menial task our regiment was assigned to; following two men in a balloon across the northernmost and emptiest regions of the world, most likely. When I had reenlisted the past fall, I had expected something exciting. There was talk of war, expansion, and I wanted to be in the thick of it. What better place for a soldier, than to be at the head of a glorious, conquering army as it sweeps across the greatest countries of the entire world.  
  
But no, I was assigned to follow two men in a balloon. Of course, most of the advance guard that had sailed into the port town would wait for more of the army to come before they went to fight in the great war that would take place in another world. But my regiment was to follow men who blasphemed the church by stealing a dead cleric's property. That was at least something.  
  
While we was sitting on spiny beds in one of the numerous grubby inns, the sergeant called us downstairs. There we learned that the men we were to follow had gone north. Well, that made things slightly more interesting.

  
  
The zeppelin was cramped and uncomfortable. There were about thirty of us in the body, in addition to the other three zeppelins travelling with us, and the spy balloon that had left only a few hours after our quarries had. As I learned many years ago, military zeppelins are not built for comfort, like the luxurious passenger zeppelin I once saw lift off from the Tzarina Viktoriya's palace, many years ago. These zeppelins are built for speed, and to hold the maximum capacity of soldiers and weapons, so they are small and crammed full of equipment, with scarcely enough room to move an arm or a leg, let alone hold thirty men along with their daemons.  
  
My close friend and officer, Romochka, had gotten up to ask the commander what the news of our quarry was, and now came back with a grin on his face, his daemon panting triumphantly at his heels.  
  
"Well, Romo?" I asked, impatient to know what we would be asked to do.  
  
"We're closer to the balloon, Fedya. We had a smoke signal from the spy balloon a few hours ago, but now we're sure we know where they're going. They're heading straight for the hills on the other side of the bay, where they will certainly try to hide in the woods." He flashed me his most charming smile. "We know what to do then."  
  
I caught on, but didn't think that it was as funny as he made it seem. These were actual men we were chasing, despite their blatant disrespect of the church, and of the Authority, by using a dead priest's property to their own ends. They shouldn't be treated so ill, with such a casual air. But I didn't voice my opinions to Romochka, who clearly didn't care.  
  
I thought that it would be a few hours until we caught up to them, from what I could judge of how far we were behind them, so I settled down into as comfortable a position as I could attain, my Quagedse gently nuzzling my side, and thought about home. Archangel was so simple and far behind, compared to this new world we had found ourselves in. It didn't look different, from what I could gather from Romochka's reports, but it felt somehow...changed. Something small had happened to this world that made it different from ours, and I could almost...taste it, if that makes any sense.  
  
When Romochka woke me to tell me about the storm, I realized that I had fallen asleep. And indeed, I could hear the heavy winds, and even the beginning of a rain shower beating on the zeppelin's canvas siding. This would be inconvenient, for certain. It would be difficult to see the balloon we were pursuing in this kind of weather. But, it also would make it more difficult for the balloon.  
  
The rain swept down upon us, and I could almost feel it drenching the zeppelins. And when there was thunder, it was monstrous. I felt it from the longest hair on my head to the heels of my regulation boots. The next flash of lightning was so bright, I could see it clearly through the canvas siding, and it was easy to predict what Romochka came running in to say; one of the other zeppelins had been struck by the enormous blast, and had caught fire, before falling into the sea.  
  
I knew that I should have been unhappy, grieving for the lost men in the zeppelin. Some of those men were my good friends. Quagedse even said something to that extent. However, I felt nothing but a dim curiosity about such a powerful storm. My mind was dancing the same steps I had on the night that I met Elizaveta. How would she live on, after I died. Because I knew that we would die, in this other world. I had known it since I received the orders, back in Archangel. The only question was how.


	3. Death at Alamo Gulch

It wouldn't be long, now. The balloonist and his companion, the shaman, the one we had just been told we were really after, would give up soon. Even with the other three zeppelins down, there were still about thirty of us, and only two of them. They had no chance, and would give up if they knew what was good for them.  
  
We spotted them on the mountainside, climbing as fast as they could, their daemons trying to encourage them. A thoroughly piteous sight. The forest was burning accusingly behind us, and the mountains were steep ahead. The zeppelin was preparing to land, and we were all ready.  
  
Because, of course, we were Imperial Guards, possibly the best-trained soldiers in the world. Or, at least, the world we left behind when we took up this assignment. So we were all standing, our packs filled with only what we would need immediately; rifles and bullets, mainly. Quagedse yawned deeply before getting to his feet and standing beside me, his ermine- soft coat ruffling my hand. We were ready. This was what we lived for.  
  
We felt the zeppelin touch the ground as one unit, a single entity. Romochka pulled back the door, letting down the gangplank, and we spilled out. Quagedse raced ahead a few paces and then back, relishing the excitement of a capture. Victory was assured; where else would the fugitives go?  
  
I straightened my bright blue uniform, the only clothing I owned that made me proud. I wanted to arrive at the capture looking my very best. Then, setting my face in the expression characteristic of an imperial guard, I set off up the slope behind my daemon.  
  
In fact, the capture was not as simple as we had planned. Instead of surrendering when they clearly knew all hope was completely gone, the old shaman had gone further up into the mountains, leaving the balloonist with a rifle at his back. Romochka saw this, and shouted at us to spread out, making things as hard for him as we could. Because, although we had the numbers, he had the position, and he might hold us off for quite some time.  
  
I heard a crack behind me, and the zeppelin's engine died. The balloonist had shot the zeppelin! And to what purpose? I ducked behind a boulder, suddenly afraid of this man who so easily held our victory, and our lives, in his sights.  
  
Romochka yelled at us, and told us to rush him at the same time and make things hardest for him. This also held a great risk of us being shot. I grabbed onto Quagedse's supple fur with my left hand, and steadied my rifle with my right. It was loaded and cocked.  
  
From my right, I could hear Romochka's rifle. I couldn't see whether it had hit its target or not, but when Romochka fell over, a bullet in his chest, it was clear that it had not. Running over to him, I reached to check his pulse, but the way his arm fell over limply told me the answer. I must admit, I couldn't restrain myself, despite Quagedse's urging to the contrary, and aimed my rifle at the boulder. To my left, one of my comrades did the same.  
  
And then the fight actually began. I fired as quickly as I could, loading bullets into my rifle and firing them off almost immediately, Quagedse holding them in her mouth until I could reach for them and reload. Men were falling from boulders around me, and the man at the top of the gulch seemed nowhere nearer to surrender. As I stretched up to fire again, I felt a sudden pain in my side.  
  
It was like floating on a tiny gust of air. Everything around me seemed to slow down, and Quagedse fell onto my stomach, her tongue lolling with the pain she felt, but was too far away for me to feel. I couldn't hear the shooting anymore, so I lay down, all urgency seeming to slip away as I could feel my life doing the same. Even as I watched, Quagedse seemed to flicker, like one of the candles Elizaveta used to light on St. Lucia day, when Valentina come around to our bedroom, her daemon at her heels in the traditional form of a dog, the same shape Saint Lucia's took, carrying the tray of rolls and mugs of chocolatl to the family.  
  
I could see Elizaveta lighting the candle by our bedside; it was always so much shorter than the ones we lit at other times of the year. And it flickered, just like Quagedse's existence was doing. And there was Valentina! Her soft eyes were gazing into mine, saying, "Papa, Mama's coming, and she'll make everything alright." And I believed her.  
  
Behind me, the zeppelin exploded. Beneath me, the ground gave way. Beside me, Quagedse gave a final weak flicker, and died. 


	4. Soldier's Bride

A/N: OK, I think this might actually be the last chapter! Unless, of course, I decide to add more, which is entirely possible.

I was trembling. Mama said that all girls are frightened on their wedding days, but I was terrified. My beautiful, expensive dress (all Naum's doing; perhaps to demonstrate regret for trying to take Papa's place for so long) rustled slightly as I shifted my feet in one of the cathedral's antechambers; Mama had left to join the audience, along with Naum, whose hand she was holding tightly, tighter than I had ever seen her hold anyone's hand, except for Papa's.

I was only ten years old when Papa died; Mama thought I had forgotten him, especially when she married Naum two years later, but I hadn't. Mama never talked about Papa after she got a letter, a few weeks after we said good-bye to him beside the harbor, for the last time. Everyone else thought that she didn't love him, that she'd married for money, not love. Soldiers have good salaries, they said.

But I always knew better. I knew better because I heard her crying sometimes, when she thought that no one could hear her, at night. Clavdiya never noticed, but I did. I had heard Papa tell her, the day he left, to marry someone else. She loved Naum, of course, but she couldn't love him as much as she loved Papa. She never expressed her love, in ways that other people could see, but I could see how she sometimes searched Naum's face, looking in his dark brown eyes for Papa's bright grey ones.

Mayen gave a little yelp beside me, reminding me of what I had to do. My own groom awaited me in the next room; I would, myself, be a wife. Demyan would be a good husband; he was magnificently handsome, and a good, steady man. He smiled gently but seldom laughed. Of course, he was also a soldier, and that would bring us and our future family a good income. I loved him, maybe not as much as Mama and Papa loved each other, but someday I would.

Clavdiya opened the door gently, her eyes dancing in the way Papa's had, a proud grin on her face. She loved jokes and fun, like Papa had. The one thing I had not inherited from Papa. I gave her a hug, tousling her dark hair gently, contemplating the beauty who stared back at me. Everyone said that we were the town beauties; I suppose that was true. She'd be married soon, I was sure of that. Kliment would become a soldier, perhaps, like his father, not like his stepfather, Naum, whose occupation was trading.

But Kliment was only twelve, and he still had much of his childhood ahead of him. His daemon hadn't even settled yet. My Mayen had settled early, into a smaller imitation of Papa's wolf daemon. That had been right after the world had set itself to rights again; after the great upheaval of the Magisterium that touched even tiny Archangel. Only a few months after Papa died.

My thoughts had wandered for long enough. I could hear the organ start up, reminding me of Naum's kind offer to pay in order to hold the wedding here, in the grandest cathedral in Archangel. Clavdiya took up my train, her smaller bridesmaid dress rustling along with mine, as we moved into the sanctuary. I could see Demyan smiling calmly at me from the front. Mama, Naum, and Kliment all grinned at me from the front pew. I kept walking.

As I reached the top step, Demyan clasped my hand in his larger one. It was then that I realized what being a soldier's wife truly meant. And I smiled back.


End file.
